


Firenze

by dammit



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, M/M, Magic, Multi, Original work - Freeform, aro/ace characters, hella gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-13 17:38:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3390362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dammit/pseuds/dammit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a kingdom where magic is both celebrated and feared, a young boy is summoned by the king to train as a candidate for the position of Archmage. This youth, Firenze, will train alongside five others, all vying for the opportunity to become the second most politically powerful individual. On top of the rigorous training, two Princes can't seem to keep their distance from the strange boy, and will nearly duel for his affections.<br/>Near the middle of his training, a failed diplomatic mission with a neighboring realm forces them to separate, causing chaos and allowing a fog of unfamiliar but clearly malevolent energy encase nearly the entire continent in it's thick miasma.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Out of the Village

The boy ran quietly through the forest, his thin green robes flowing in the gentle breeze; as he raced between the massive trees he altered his pace to jump or skip, laughing in excitement at the freedom soaring through his veins, the usually pallid hue of his cheeks flushed a joval cherry from exertion. With a final whoop of joy he flopped down on a thick patch of moss surrounded by sunset orange wildflowers at the apex of a large hill.

The youth, for he was no older than fifteen, stared longingly at the sky, looking upon the birds with envy, sighing. After a few moments he sat up to turn his attention to the hustle and bustle of a village nestled at the base of the slope upon which he rested. His vivid saffron eyes lit up with amusement as he watched the letter-deliverer get chased off his route by an uncommonly small dog. After enjoying this scene for a short juncture of time he produced a pinch of sambuca hued soot, smearing it over a rock in an intricate swirling pattern, whereupon it glowed for an instant only to be replaced by a large wicker basket full of varied goodies; at the sight the lad clapped his hands, grinning widely as he thought, I ought to thank the cook later, before setting about eating the single-person banquet of strawberry mint tea, meat pastries, a berry tart, several different cheeses and sliced cold meats, all devoured and savored in a leisurely fashion, for he knew that his father's men would not locate him for some time.

Having finished his meal, he banished the containers with a little more colored soot and set about finding a nice spot for a nap. He took his time in doing so, walking slowly through the forest and inspecting every tree, running his fingertips along the weathered bark; as he moved through the grove, his barefeet padded tenderly over squishy beds of moss and skirted around various fauna, for, in his mind, to destroy such radiant life would be a dire loss.

Eventually he paused in front of a sizeable tree with plum leaves and beryl branches that seemed to be teeming with life. Grinning faintly, he embarked on ascending into the boughs; about midway up he located a group of branches that formed a small bed, grabbing a handful of the powder he blew on it while whispering, “Bring me that which gives my sleep peace”, eyes closing as he speaks. When they reopen a few warm blankets and soft-looking pillows were cradled in the hollow; yawning and stretching, he crawled under the covers, hugging one pillow while his head rests on the other as he lapses into a nap.  While the youth rested, birds flitted about, chirping to each other as they investigated the intruder, pecking at his hair simply to get knocked away by a lazy hand; even much later, as it was getting dark, a young turtle, having narrowly escaped being eaten by one of the several large birds occupying the conifer, noticed the warm cloths and decided to scrabble under them, huddling next to the copper-haired boy. As the last rays of daylight faded from sight, a small flash of brightness awoke the lad; his nose wrinkling in disdain as slim hands rubbed at bleary eyes. His contempt was cut short by the wondrous sights appearing around him as the nocturnal world stirred; brilliantly hued insects darted past night-time hunters with glowing eyes, several incandescent mosses starting to pulse with frosty light. A group of fireflies made berth in the young man’s hair, eliciting a cheerful giggle; after saying a few soft words a glass jar appeared, the boy catching a few of the insects in it and placing some leaves at the bottom as well before dispelling it to his bedroom.

Once he deemed himself suitably awoken he sat up to better observe his surroundings, consequently waking up the small turtle in the process. “Oh, hello there,” he said softly, slowly stretching out a hand for it to rub it’s head against, allowing the turtle to make the first touch by rubbing its head along his palm before petting it, rubbing the reptile’s shell absently as he relished in the beauty surrounding him. A subdued clacking coming from his side, coupled with a head butting against his hand, pulled him out of revere, returning his attention to the small chelonian at his side; an amused smile brightens his face as he hooked his hands under the turtles shell and lifted him up, a giggle bursting forth at it’s antics. “You’re cute. . .do you mind if I keep you?” he asked, rubbing his forehead against the tortoises beak, smile widening at the responding clack. “I think I’ll call you Titanus,” he mused before cradling the loggerhead to his chest, humming to himself; the comforting silence of the forest was such that he could have fallen asleep if not for the arrival of hoof-beats pounding at the ground as they came towards him. Still holding the testudinal close to his chest, he stuck his head out in order to identify to whom the horses belonged to; a moment later and a slight tilt of his head gave him his answer. Several palace guards dressed in his father’s colors of muted gold, persimmon orange, pale pink and harvest yellow, lead by Sir Klein, the knight in charge of his protection and well-being. He giggled at the familiar figure of the knight, having been wondering when his flaxen-haired guardian  would come to retrieve him. The youth was pulled out of his musings by the parties approach, quickly dispelling all of the blankets and pillows with the exception of a pale yellow one, swinging it round his shoulders and attaching  it with a simple amber broach before setting the turtle in a hidden pocket within the cloak with some leaves, taking a deep breath to steady himself. After checking their progress, he started climbing up at a steady pace, locating a branch close to a tree leading deeper into the forest, taking the leap with ease and heading deeper in, hoping to lose his pursuers.

“Prince Firenze, we know you are here, just come out already and let us take you back to the castle, it’s not safe here!” Sir Klein bellowed in exasperation, unknowingly stopping under the tree the youth sat in and evoking a wince from him at the use of his name. Dropping down, just enough for them to see him but not enough for them to catch him, he called in response, “Only if I get to keep the tortoise!” This elicited a sigh from the lieutenant of the guard, but none the less garnered the desired response.

“Fine! Now please get down here, you’re making me nervous, young master!” the knight called to Firenze, his horse stamping at the ground. With a shout of glee, he hopped off the branch, swinging off one several feet below him to land behind Klein.

“Onward, good Sir Knight!” Firenze snickered, one hand fisted in the older’s blackcurrant robes, the other pointed over his shoulder towards the castle. This caused the lieutenant to grumble, having almost had a heart attack at the youths antics, waving his right arm about to gather his men before advancing in the palace’s direction. The ride was pleasant, despite the palatable tension in the air caused by the boys shenanigans; a constant  flow of indignant mutterings coming from Sir Klein, generating several bouts of giggling from the young prince behind him. The youths high spirits lasted until the treeline, Firenze’s eyes becoming downcast as they crossed through a farmers field, holding the young turtle close to him as he drew the hood over his head to hide his face, visibly seceding into himself. The knight recognized this, of course, having been by the princes side since he was a child, a look of tenderness smoothing his features as he reached back to lift the hood a little.

“I promise I’ll ask His Lordship to go easy on you, he hasn’t let you into the gardens since that incident so he ought to know how antsy you would get,”  Sir Klein whispered to the boy, offering him a warm smile before continuing, the warm expression turning into a slight frown, “Though you really ought to have said something to me, I would have accompanied you wherever you wished, Sire.” he finished delicately, brow pinching  in concern when he didn’t get an immediate answer.

“I. . .thank you.” is all Firenze murmured in response, leaning forward against his guardian as they reached the bridge leading to the entry fort, staying close to him as the group went through the checkpoint and finally entered the main courtyard. The space was well lit by blazing torches gilded with gold, orange hued roses climbed the walls alongside dark ivy and the cobblestones surrounding a large bronze fountain were a delicate pink, all leading to a magnificent cherrywood door, set with glinting gems of every orange and pink hue to emphasis the intricately carved image of an enormous tree. Firenze stayed close to Sir Klein, save when he paused to make sure his new friend was well hidden, even as they disembarked the horses and went inside to the sounding of trumpets, the large door held open by several guards. As they neared the main hall, shouts were heard, a man’s bellowing echoed through the halls.

“Where is that boy?!? He’ll be lucky to ever see that forest again. . . If I had it my way he’d never leave here again!” a broad-shouldered man shouted, his silver-streaked moustache flopping around and face red with fury. The boy in question moved to hide behind his guardian at the daunting sight his father, Duke Cashore, made while his court magician, Mage Stephan -a small man who greatly resembled Firenze-, tried in vain to placate him with soft words.

“He’s just a child, Sire, it’s natural for him to want to run free in the woods! And what happened wasn’t his fault, I don’t see why he’s being punished for that fellow’s actions,” he reasoned, jumping in front of the raging ruler, trying to keep him from barreling down the corridor to search for the miscreant himself. A soft cough from Sir Klein drew both of their attentions, the arrival of the search party pulling them away from their spat.

“Well? Where is he?” the duke said gruffly, placing his hands on his hips and narrowing his eyes. The knight waited a moment, turning his head to give Firenze an expectant look before the youth stepped out from behind the older male hesitantly, head bowed.

“Right here, Father,” he said softly, one hand still clinging to the knight’s dark purple robes. A moment of silence filled the next few moments, all eyes on the room moving between the duke and his son; the sudden sound of a heavy footfall on the tiled flooring shaking everyone out of their thoughts, each echoing step simply made the youth clench his jaw. With the exception of Sir Klein, all of the soldiers moved back a pace when Cashore came to a stop less than a foot away from the steadfast youth. Firenze had dealt with his father’s punishments before, the worst had been when he had managed to get as far as the border and the man made him spar with his three older brothers, the result being a scar that ran from his hip to his shoulder blade along with many small cuts littering his forearms and legs. At the same time his father seemed to single him out yet acted more benign towards him than his other children; the duke had never personally punished him, but always made sure someone beat him back into his place.

The tension in the air was heavy, seemed to crackle in the air surrounding the duke while a cool aura of quiet defiance hung around Firenze; Klein’s wide hazel eyes darted between the two standing next to him, transfixed in his spot by the boys hand. Oh dear. . . this is not going to end well. . . the knight thought, taking a deep breath to steel himself before speaking, “Sire, if I may, the young master only went on this escapade due to his being locked in the castle, if you had allowed him access to the gardens he may not have-” Cashore’s raising of his hand cut him off as the noble leant forward until his long thin nose was inches away from the brim of the youths hood; for a moment he just puffed hot air into the teens face, face still red and moustache puffed out. What an old fool, Firenze reflected, he honestly thinks he can just blow on my face and frighten me like one would a rabbit; it was true, the duke always got his way by bullying those around him, he often thought of his mere presence filling a ‘lesser’ being with fear, even though that was not the case. Too many people cowering before him due to his reputation had inflated his already bulbous ego. When Firenze gave no indication of being cowed by his actions, Duke Cashore snorted and knocked the lads hood from his head before expressing his anger.

“How dare you, Boy?! I forbade you from the garden, I locked you from the outside world, yet you think it wise to frolic through the forest?” he roared, stalking a circle around the youth, his chest thrown out in a display of dominance, “You were being punished for your indiscretions, and you completely disregarded it.” The last part came out as a snarl, his face contorting with anger and fists clenching at his sides. Firenze fought to remain passive through the barrage, his fist tightening in Klein’s robe, knuckles turning white with the strength of his grip. Behind the fuming lord stood Mage Stephan, body rigid as he draws in magic, ready to jump between the two. As Firenze’s silence continued, it only seemed to fuel Cashore’s anger, bringing it to the boiling point where he raised a hand to strike the boy on the face; this was the moment where Stephan pounced, latching onto the dukes arm and flaring his magic around him, warning him in a whispered, “You made a promise,” before glaring at him with glowing verdant eyes, his magic starting to seethe into the space around him and causing his pale yellow robes to glimmer with vibrant green light. This display of power, extremely rare of any mage, let alone Stephan, was enough to get the duke to back down, however the action drew a very different reaction from Firenze. What does he mean by that?, he questioned internally, eyebrows furrowing in confusion and head tilting to the side; he could tell even Sir Klein was confused by this, the wrinkle in his nose a tell-tale sign that he had no previous knowledge of this vow. They shared a glance, Firenze pleading for some kind of explanation but only receiving an exasperated glare in return.

It took a few moments for Cashore to recover from being chastised by his typically yielding court mage, and by the time he could even consider continuing his berating of the younger, trumpets had sounded for a second time that night.

“Oh, who is it?” the duke thundered crossly, slinking back to his throne and pouting like a small child. The announcer, a rather rotund man with a mouse-like personality, mumbled something about ‘magic’ and ‘testing’ before scurrying out of the way of a tall woman, black furred cloak rippling with each step, followed closely by a page and a lower court mage. The woman walked with elegance, her face was stern and white-streaked black hair pinned up in a severe bun, a tenacious air surrounding her being. As soon as she came into his view the Duke’s beady eyes widened in surprised recognition, sending him falling back into his seat with a grunt as he smoothed his robes and sat up straight, trying to appear every bit the ‘proper’ ruler he rarely was but wished to exemplify.

As the group came to a halt in the middle of the chamber, all whispered conversations stopped, the assembled staff and warriors alike keen on observing what was likely to be an entertaining showdown. The only one in the room who had no idea what was to come, naturally, was Firenze, visitors came less often than he successfully escaped, and even fewer times had they commanded such respect as this woman did with her mere presence. The boy tried making eye contact with his guardian again, hoping that he would lend some clue as to the identity of their unannounced guest, unfortunately unable to do so as she began addressing the room in a professional tone.

“As you probably already know, I am Lord Belinda,  viceroy to the King and conductor of internal affairs. The archmage has fallen fatally ill and a replacement must be trained,” Cashore had lifted his head, mouth open as if to interject something but the noblewoman held up her hand to silence him before continuing, his face turning a lucid red in indignation, “We are required to test all those above the age of fifteen that have shown signs of magical ability, to see if they have the right volume of power for the position. Our past records have shown that your son, Firenze,  has shown great aptitude for magic. Where might I locate him?” she barraged at Cashore, not letting him get a word in edgewise, and leaving him unable to do much other than point at the youth where he stood not far from the relentless woman, having been forced from his spot in the entryway by her arrival. “I see, if you’ll come with me.” she said to Firenze with a dip of her head, voice clipped; the boys eyes widened as he nodded respectfully and scrambled to follow her as she stalked into a side room, followed quickly by her entourage, the sounds of the duke roaring with rage at those left in the room echoing along behind them. I could become the archmage, I could leave this place, he thought excitedly, his elation from this new prospect distracting him from the odd exchange between his Father and Stephan before he bumped into the member of Lord Belinda’s party in front in his haste.

“Ah, sorry.” he apologized quickly, bowing his head in embarrassment. The young woman gave him a small smile in return, sending a warm pulse of energy at him to show that she wasn’t concerned by it at all. This surprised him, for he wasn’t used to people’s auras interacting with his own, the brush of her pale blue against his own dark purple sending a small jolt of electricity up his spine and making his shiver. Her eyes widened at the reaction and she moved to his side.

“Oh, sorry, your aura just beckoned to mine. . .” she explained, pushing her circular glasses up her nose, speaking eagerly, “I’ve never met such a welcoming aura, it’s a little hard to describe, the closest thing to it was a Druid I studied alongside when I was young. It’s also really big, I barely had to reach out to meet it, usually such a large aura would be more defensive and less receptive to touch, but yours is all warm and welcoming, makes me think of home!” she babbled on, drawing the attention of the page bringing up the rear, his head timidly moving forward to catch their conversation, form concaved to make him look smaller. The smallest move of the petite boy seemed to catch her attention, arm shooting out to pull him into a one arm embrace. “Oh how silly of me! I haven’t even introduced myself! I’m Izi and this is Gregory!” a soft chuckled came from her as she squeezed the lad, who was raising a hand in greeting.

“H-Hi,” Gregory said softly, head bowing and shoulders coming up as he blushed, “M-my master is one of the recruits, s-so he sent me along ahead of him to scout the ‘competition’ a-as he put it.” Firenze smiled softly at the meek blond, unable to reply as they had finally reached the den. Lord Belinda took a seat in one of the large velvet chairs, first hanging her fur cloak on a hook, then directing him to stand in front of her.

“You’ll need to take off that cloak.” she said shortly, eyebrows raised in expectation; he paused as he started undoing the broach, remembering the turtle he had hidden within the garment. He slid the shawl off his shoulders carefully, gently piling the cloth onto a nearby table so that it pillowed the loggerhead inside. The lord quirked a brow at this, refraining from commenting as she signaled to Ivi, who had been standing off to the side, motioning her forward with a thin finger.

“Oh, right, sorry.” she muttered, darting forward the set up a quick rune circle, looking over her work to check for mistakes before nodding to Belinda and stepping back. At the nod, the noblewoman stood, striding forward to scrutinize Firenze as she explains, “Now, this circle will draw out your aura and then monitor it’s volume. If we determine that you are appropriately powerful for such a position as the royal arch-mage, then it is your duty to report to the sovereign palace in Straetatus within two days. If you do not report, and lack an acceptable explanation as to why not, the punishment is not to be taken lightly.” A condescending frown covered her face at the last part, eyeing him suspiciously as he fidgeted under her acute inspection. When his amber eyes rose to meet her own gray in a display of obstinance, she conceded with a tilt of her head, stalking back to the chair as Izi initiates the enchantments; as soon as the runes started glowing with faint lapis light, Firenze’s bright eyes shot open, the sensation of his essence being drawn out pleasantly electrifying him. It feels like the first time I used magic, he thought briefly, pulled from his revere by the crackle of energy around him, his maroon aura pulsing out in voluminous waves. The seconds ticked by slowly, his spirit energy pouring out to be measured; instead of allowing himself to be swept up by the amiable palpation his yellow eyes sweep along the room, taking in the different reactions. Lord Belinda looked entirely unphased, if not a little intrigued, Izi appeared to be almost beside herself with excitement, while Gregory looked upon him with awe.

It seemed like an aeon passed before Izi stepped forward to dispel the circle, the pull on the youths spirit particles for such a period of time having started to drain him - as it would most magic users with his lack of formal training - to the point of near-exhaustion. Firenze quickly steadied himself by leaning against a large cabinet, skin a bit more ashen than usual, as it was was always when he had used a bit too much magic. The noblewoman watched him hawkishly, an arched eyebrow held up in approval as Izi informed her of the datum provided to her through the enchantment.  Meanwhile, Gregory had crossed the room, shoving a skin of water into one hand and a chunk of chocolate in the other.

“M-Master always said that hydration was important, and that chocolate helps bring your body back up to normal after drawing out magic.” he mumbled shyly, warm brown eyes darting up to check for rejection. After sending him a quick look of gratitude, Firenze broke off a piece of the confection, humming happily at the sweet flavor, then washing it down with a quick gulp of water; the effect was immediate, warm energy trickled through him, leaving a pleasant tingling sensation in his limbs. Taking his time devouring a large portion of the chocolate allowed him to better study Gregory, stealing glances at him as the women conferenced in the background. The shorter male had dull blond hair that curled around his eternally flushed ears and heated cheeks, framing warm brown eyes that were almost always fixed upon his toes as well. Gregory’s rank was made obvious by his worn but not shabby clothes, all various shade of brown and made from soft, pliable, leather; a long dagger was fixed upon his hip along with a quiver filled with arrows while a yew bow sat hooked over his narrow shoulders. After two minutes of blatant starring, Gregory looked up shyly, a timid smile curving his cherry-red lips.

“A-Are you done?” he asked softly, holding his hands out to take the remnants of chocolate and the canteen, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards as Firenze handed them over considerately, returning the smile with a wide grin. He opened his mouth to thank him but was interrupted  by Lord Belinda calling him over.

“Yes, ma’am?” he inquired, wheeling about to look at the noble. She simply dropped a large scroll into his arms and dipped her head as she said, “You passed. This will explain all that you need to know. We expect to see you and your companion at the front gates by midnight two days hence.” And with that, she was gone, stalking down the hall with her cloak billowing around her, Izi and Gregory having no other choice than to follow her. Firenze stood there for a moment, gawking at the retreating figures for a few moments before the duke’s roar of his name reminded him of the mess that awaited him in the main hall. Suddenly weary, Firenze mustered up just enough spare energy to transport his cloak and Titanus up to his room as he made his way back, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands with a sigh.

The brightness of the main hall was startling in comparison to the muted light of the antechamber, making the boy squint for a moment as he adjusted to it. When he opened his eyes again, the only people in the hall were Sir Klein, Stephan, and Cashore, the three clustered by the throne and immersed in deep conversation. As they spoke Cashore’s voice rose and rose, despite the other two’s attempts to calm him.

“Who does she think she is, walking in here like she owns the place and silencing me in front of my own court!” he snarled, face crimson with rage and mustache on edge, “And that boy! Did you see how smug he was when he walked off with her? I’ll...I’ll strangle him with my bare hands before he can even leave this place!” he finished with a shout, fists clenched. At his exclamation Firenze stopped in his tracks, now painfully aware of the gravity of this situation, his legs filling with lead and stomach dropping from fear. He’s going to kill me, the boy thought in horror, He’s going to kill me and. . . a sudden rush of realization pushed it’s way to the forefront of his mind, causing him to recall the “promise” Mage Stephan had mentioned earlier, What was that promise about?At what cost has it been kept?

The possibilities overwhelmed him and made hopelessness surge through him, forcing him to use the last of his strength to teleport himself to his bedroom where he promptly blacked out on the bed.

 


	2. To Straetatus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Away they go!!! Firenze attempts to make his escape with assistance from Sir Klein, but the two are caught and given a warning from the duke, as well as a special mission for Firenze to complete once he reaches the castle! On their journey they bump into old acquaintances, new rivals, and romantic interests!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow so I'm really sorry that I havent updated in so long, it was actually a comment from slotheria that got me back into this story! I hope you guys enjoy this next chapter and hopefully I'll be posting at least two chapters a month from now on!

Daybreak brought an end to Firenze’s restless sleep, the muted crow of a rooster barely reaching  
his ears. With a huff of annoyance he sat up, sliding a lazy hand through his messy hair as he looked about his room, reaching over to grab the scroll once he had located it. Why is it so big? The youth pondered as he turned the parchment around in his hands, trying to locate the seal. A glint of purple caught his eye on the third rotation, and when he followed it he found an almost invisible crease, held together by a series of runes, indicating a sealing spell that could only be removed with its antithesis. Firenze snorted, standing to sift through his own collection of spells and rune sheets, muttering to himself as he tried to find the spells foil among his own.  


"Aha!" He cried as he ferreted out the correct one, licking the back and slapping it on top of the seal. Abruptly, the scroll unravelled, shining with lavender light for a moment before the contents spun onto the sheet as if it were being written right then and there, the font a neat and curly but small script; this was a new sort of sorcery to him, causing his golden eyes to widen in wonderment, almost dropping the parchment in shock. Once, disregarding the protective runes on the edges of the page as he brought it near enough to brush against his nose, in order to read it without the aid of a magnifying enchantment. Just as he began to inspect the return address, a sharp knock on the heavy oak door to his room pulled him away, sending him scrambling to hide the letter.  


“Just a second!” he exclaimed in exasperation as the visitor continued to rap on his door, tossing a loose blue tunic on to cover his bare chest and part of the baggy cream-colored sleeping pants that hung around his knees.  


On the way to the door he frantically tried to tame his sleep-mussed hair, to no avail, before freezing as his father’s threat from last night echoed through his mind, casting a weak spell to check the intentions of the person behind it, and finding them to be of concern, he wrenched it open with a huff of irritation that melted upon seeing Stephan in his threshold.  


“Oh, um, hello, did you need something?” he mumbled shyly, the one-on-one company of his fathers mage an unusual, but not unwelcome, act. A few seconds of silence made Firenze realize how much of an utter mess he resembled, considering the shoulder of his gown sliding off, copper locks standing up in chaotic spikes alongside the powder smeared across his cheeks and jaw, some of it having spread so far as his clavicle, dipping into the hollow of his neck as well as a smudge behind his ear from where he had itched it late in the night. He considered casting a cleaning charm over himself, or at least a tidying enchantment to make himself at least somewhat presentable. As he was in the act of fishing some of the plum-colored dust from a pouch around his wrist, a strained smile curved the mage’s lips, paired with a troubled gleam in his auric eyes as he finally spoke in a tender voice.  


“I was concerned when you didn’t return from the meeting with Lord Belinda and given that my night was free I would have checked up on you earlier, but I became otherwise engaged,” Stephan murmured, face pointed downwards in such a way that his mid-length crimson hair shadowed it from sight; after lifting it with a short sigh, his eyes filling with melancholy warmth, he continued “How did the test go?” The earnest concern in the elder man's voice caused Firenze to flush; the youth was unused to having his accomplishments so ardently sought, usually having to bother Sir Klein into indulging his inclinations for praise, though this was something that he hadn’t done for years. He had always considered Mage Stephan to be a rather emphatic, though distant, person, recognizing his kindness through small gifts sent to him via magical means. I wonder if that has anything to do with the “promise” Cashore made, he thought, brow furrowing and lips pursing before jolting out of his contemplation at a small cough from the mage standing in his doorway.  


“S-sorry. . . got lost in my thoughts, “Firenze apologized with a stutter, smiling sheepishly up at the red-haired man as he carried on, “I passed. They expect me at the castle within the next three days. Some kind of ceremony or something.” the last bit was spoken with a shrug, hands clasping awkwardly behind his back as he waited for either approval or disregard. As the boy spoke, a shadow of anguished relief fell over the others face, his fingers sliding over his mouth to stifle a sob, tears welling up in his blue pools before slowly dripping down the older mans face; it took Firenze a few moments to register Stephan’s reaction, caught between wanting to console him while also wishing to know why the elder was so hurt by his success. His answer came soon enough, once the redhead had managed to quench his weeping, he grinned, looking as though a great burden had been lifted from him.  


“I’m so glad, Firenze, I will pray to the spirits for your continued achievement!” the maroon-haired male called as he departed, rushing down the hallway with a muffled shout of joy, tears still falling from his eyes. This was even more surprising than the sobbing to Firenze, it left him frozen in his doorway and entirely puzzled by the turn of events; What was that about? he inquired, wandering back into his room to read the parchment after a few minutes of standing there and gazing down the hallway.  


“Now where did I put that thing?” he muttered to himself as he sifted through the clutter, exhaling grumpily when he finds it under his pillow; dragging it out from under the pouf with a huff before setting it on the tilted desk below his window, pushing a few unfinished projects out of the way in order to do so. Thankfully the magnification runes had held through the parchments rough-handling so he could get started right away, humming to himself as he scans through the text.  


Dear Applicant For the Position Of Court Archmage,  


We, the magical staff housed within Straetatus, are delighted to welcome you within our ranks for the duration of your training and, provided you gain the necessary qualifications, your term as Archmage. You are expected to arrive exactly two days hence, failure to comply will end in the sealing of your magic, through the closing of your spiritual points, and indentured servitude to the king. You are allowed to bring one companion, up to three familiars, and any other items you believe will assist you in the completion of your training.  


While this position definitely provides one with a substantial amount of power, let it be known now that if you use this for ends that could be detrimental to the kingdom we will not hesitate to strip you of your magics and exile you to the outskirts of all society, where you will live out your days as a powerless, soulless, weakling that is to be spat upon and treated with the utmost disrespect.  


Now that you have been suitably warned of the consequences, the education you will be provided is not to be taken lightly. Each lesson is a challenge, some are even deadly if performed incorrectly. After you have been tested to identify your core magic, you will begin said lessons in order to gain the skills required of an Archmage, these will have three sections; the first will be mage training and will contain your courses on Defensive, Taming, and Healing magics, the second will focus more on court dynamics and diplomacy , with some historical elements, while the third will postulate you to hone your skills in a particular magical trade (i.e. Mage, Sage, Druid, Chirurgeon, Ranger, Exorcist, etc.) . You will work alongside five other enchanters to complete the apprenticeship, followed shortly by a test to determine which of you will take the Archmages place. For each section you will have at least one teacher per course study, the majority of them being mages while others may be anything from knights to historians to even a chef, it would be wise of you to remember that the position of Archmage does not simply mean that you are to advise them through troubles, but to also protect and serve them in various ways. While only one of you can occupy this office, the rest of you will be given positions around the kingdom and outside of it as diplomatic entities.  


To repeat- you are expected at Strataetus within the next two days.  


Sincerely,  


Lord Belinda and the Sage Council  


Firenze snorted as he sagged back in his seat, letting the letter flop down on the pale colored wood. Well it’ll be better than this place, he thought sullenly, the heavily structured instruction sounding altogether restricting and dull. After a moment he stood up, paced over to a large map of Faudenlauch and activated the three tier model with a wave of his hand before inspecting it.  


“Hmmm. . . so I have two days, including today, to get there, and the ride is one-and-a-half. . . so I’d better go get Klein, steal some provisions, and high-tail it there.” He concluded with a nod, arms crossed in finality. After deactivating the map he rolled it up, setting it near the center of his bed in the start of a pile of things to take along, adding some clothes and miscellaneous magical items before stuffing them into a pair of saddlebags; once he had his things piled by the door, he swiftly changed into riding gear comprised of soft leather boots, tight-fitting white trousers, a pale green tunic, and dun colored cloak. A soft clicking noise alerted him to the companion he had almost forgotten, allowing him to hastily snatch up Titus on his way out the door.  


Hefting the bags over his shoulder as he snuck out into the corridor, Firenze peered around the corner, tiptoeing past when he saw no-one coming or going, quickly making his way to the stables and stopping at the kitchen on his way. He managed to evade most of the staff, only having almost encountered the cook and stable-boy; allowing him to steal enough food for the journey and pack it onto a large mare by the name of Titania, her grey-dappled blonde coat glistening in the early morning light. With a series of short incantations and a small bundle of straw, the youth transfigured the silage into a moderately sized basket, whereupon he set the tortoise within it, sliding in a head of lettuce and a jug of water to keep the creature nourished. After giving the draft horse a quick grooming, Firenze slipped from the stables, creeping along the west facing wall before shadow-porting to the practice field, knowing that Sir Klein would be there, presumably well on his way to completing his sunrise exercise routine.  


Firenze landed in the shade at the far side of the field within moments, staying still as he surveyed his surroundings and only moving when he saw his knight swinging artfully at several cloth dummies at the far end of the field.  


“Psssst. . . Psssst. . . Kleeeeein,” he hissed, eyes darting around to watch for the rest of his fathers company. When the older gave no sign that he had heard Firenze, the boy crept closer, sticking close to the dark patches in an attempt to avoid detection; once he had relocated to a stack of barrels, the youth repeated himself, sending a harmless spark in the blonds direction to catch his attention. A sharp yelp alerted him to his success, causing a giddy grin to flash across his face as he popped his head up enough for Klein to pinpoint his exact location, “We need to leave if I’m gonna make it to Straetatus within the next three days, let’s go,” he whispered, cupping his mouth to help the sound carry. When Klein gave a disbelieving snort and moved to return to his hacking-and-slashing, Firenze tossed the opened scroll to him, the knight barely catching it before raising his eyebrow, starting to rub at the crease in his brow as he read, meanwhile the lad allowed for his eyes to wander, glancing up at the sky to view a pair of hawks soaring past the billows of the shrine, slowly losing himself in a daydream.  


“. . .irenze. . .Firenze. . . Firenze!” Klein snapped quietly, startling the boy from his thoughts enough for him to knock over one of the vessels, the blond catching it and setting it back down with a sigh as Firenze blushed in embarrassment.  


“Sorry, sorry,” Firenze grumbled, looking up at Klein and flashing him a smile, “So are you coming with or do I have to go ask that boring old monk?” This garnered an eye-roll from the other, a fond smile curving Kleins lips a moment later as he replied, ruffling the boy’s hair, “Of course I am, you’d die without me, young master.” Firenze gave a muted hoot of joy at this, stretching his arms out to hug Klein quickly before bounding away, hopping up the stack of barrels to the roof, “Then we’d better get going!” he called down, waving to the man below then racing across the slates, jumping through a high-up window on the barn and sliding down the railing to wait for his guardian in the saddle room.  


It took Sir Klein a considerably larger amount of time to get ready than Firenze had, having to gather his armor and other battle necessities, three large sacks slung about him as he returned. The moment the knight strode into the barn, the lad sprung into action, bringing out saddles for both his and the older’s horse, waiting for him to drop his load before tossing the saddle at him. “The horses are shod and I cleaned their hooves earlier, all we need to do is saddle them up and head out,” the youth told him in passing, quickly but tenderly strapping Titania up, checking twice to make sure the saddle wasn’t too tight nor too loose; after seeing Klein do the same, he swung himself up to mount the mare, huffing a bit as he scrambled at the smooth leather for purchase. A soft stain of pink covered the boys cheeks as he heard Klein’s chuckling at his clumsiness, muttering “Jerk” while the other swooped gracefully into his seat. Once Firenze was done pouting he cast a mental alteration charm over himself, causing him to appear as a common foot-soldier as they wound through the compound, wasting no time in heading for the front gates. The effect was immediate, such an extreme distortion of his appearance drained him quickly, leaving him praying that he could hold up the illusion up long enough to get past the guards at the gate.  


“Amazing, this charm is working better than I thought, it even distorts my voice!” Firenze called to Klein excitedly, trying to hide his weakness, and this was indeed true, his typically warm tenor dropped down to a grainy alto. No sooner had he said this than a shimmer moved about him and the enchantment disappeared, leaving his voice normal and identity revealed as they approached the gate. “What the. . .” he was cut off by the thunder of hooves, Duke Cashore showing up on the other side of them, wearing his trade-mark sardonic smirk.  


“Thought you could leave without us knowing, did you, boy?” he groused, circling the pair with his large chestnut steed as his men surrounded them, coming up alongside Firenze as he spoke “Don’t worry, I’m not stopping you, I’ve just found a way for you to prove your worth,” the duke continued, leaning forward into the youths personal space, smiling maniacally, “ You, boy, will seduce one of the princes, I don’t care which, and get them to marry you, so that I may get more land and more money through this marital tie. Now go, I require immediate results, otherwise I cannot ensure the well-being of the villagers. ” Cashore’s crooked grin grew at this, noticing how Firenze couldn’t help but allow a bit of fear to seep into his eyes at the thought, the youth’s head lowering as he ground out a response.  


“Fine, but if anything happens to them, you’d best watch your back.” the lad murmured angrily, pushing feebly at the dukes chest until he backed off enough for himself and Klein to move past, the knight’s blue eyes filled with concern during the entire exchange. Despite a few spear-proddings and grunted “move alongs” from several intrusive officers, Firenze and Klein made their way down to the village unscathed, neither pausing to look back as they trod along the winding road in silence only broken by the calls of birds and an indistinct rustling in Firenze’s satchel.  


The sun slid upwards in the sky at a leisurely pace, marking their progress with it’s rays. Much earlier they had passed through the village without drawing attention to themselves, a fact Firenze was grateful for as he couldn’t bear having to say an unremitting farewell to the baker or trapper, since they had treated him well. Now it was just after midday, and they had stopped in a small glade to water the horses and eat after having galloped through a sweeping valley that ran from the outskirts of Pervical, the village by Duke Cashore’s stronghold, to Januisen, a larger trading city on the bank of a massive river which they were relaxing at the outskirts of. Many merchant-carts pulled by large horses or oxen passed by their resting place, paying Firenze and Klein no attention as they hurried to their destination.  


He’s brightened a bit, Sir Klein thought, glancing over at the boy with a flick of his hair and a concerned sigh. The youth hadn’t spoken a word since their encounter with Cashore, and had kept to the back of their party, Most likely worrying about the village and how to follow his orders, he resolved, brow furrowing as he stood.  


“Alright, enough moping, we’ve got quite a ways to go before we hit the inn,” the knight called to Firenze as he removed his deep purple cloak, tying it down the the saddle before grinning at the boy, “You might want to take yours off as well, theres not going to be as much shade on this stretch.” A delicate smile had crept across the lad’s face at Kleins grin, the boy nodding in acquiescences before standing and doing the same; meanwhile the elder boosted himself up onto his saddle, turning the horse about to face the youth as he stuffed his own dusty mantle into a pouch before heaving himself up with a grunt of effort. After rustling about for a moment, doing a quick check-up on Titus before taking a quick gulp of water and waving his hand at Klein to signal that he was ready to move on.  


The rest of the journey to their first stop, the inn at Partengon, was sweltering; even Klein was pushed to remove his external tunic and tie his hair back, sweat dripping down their brows as they trod along. Firenze saw his companions discomfort and cast a cooling charm over the two of them, which caused a crisp breeze to blow over them constantly. Shortly thereafter, the knight felt it safe to try and talk to his young charge, slowing his horse to become level with the boy.  
“You’re rather quiet today, thinking about anything in particular?” he asked softly, eyes beseeching the youth to share his burdening thoughts. It took a few moments for the lad to provide any answer, his lips working silently as he formed his response.  
“I. . . I worry for the villagers, and would do anything for their safety, but I do not wish to be with anyone, t-to lay with someone, as my father has prompted me to.” Firenze stuttered quietly, brow furrowed in agitation and knuckles white from his tight grip on the reins. Klein took a moment to consider the boys reply, pursing his lips before carefully sliding an arm around the youngers shoulders, pulling him into a gentle embrace as a wave of paternal affection washed over him.  


“Once, when I was just your age, your father sent me to kill a man who was challenging his borders and vying for more land. Lord Cashore did not just wish for me to murder him, he wanted me to bring the man to his knees by making him fall in love with me, for his tastes were well-known,” the knight paused for a moment, bringing their horses closer to the side of the trail so that any traffic could pass, “I was young, had not yet learned to fear the retribution of your father, and demanded another assignment. He told me that if I did not, he would sell my sisters into prostitution. At that time, my family was my everything, so I did as he told me,” a dark look settled on the knights face at this, his arm tightening for a moment before releasing the youth with a gentle kiss to the forehead, “Sometimes we must do detestable things for the ones we love, the important thing is to not let it break you.”  


As Klein spoke, a pained look entered his eyes, making Firenze’s chest squeeze with emotion, and causing him to shove at the knight gently in an attempt to lighten the mood.  


“If that was supposed to cheer me up, it didn’t work very well.” he deadpanned, shooting an amused glare at the man, which only made the older chuckle.  


“No, I suppose it wouldn’t, “he admonished before shooting the lad a sly grin and cuffing him on the shoulder, “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve heard the king’s sons are very attractive.”  


“Well it doesn’t!” Firenze recanted, batting Klein's hand away as he blushed, the older just laughing harder at his antics, thereafter he was distracted by the appearance of swiftly approaching hoofbeats approaching them. A quick glance between the two sent them into action, Klein deftly notching an arrow to his bow and wheeling his horse around while Firenze constructed a crude ball of energy to be thrown at the nearest target. A large cloud of dust surrounded the new arrivals, several shouts echoing from the two riders as they drew closer.  


“Hey, hey, get out the way, future archmage coming through!” the young man in front crowded, head flung back in a laugh as he raced by, escorted shortly by a rather stout-looking woman who shot Klein and Firenze an apologetic before trodding along behind him as quickly as she could, both blond-haired and dressed in the dark blue fur-lined clothes commonly worn in the north. A puzzled expression crossed the lads face at this, causing Klein to chuckle and sidle his horse over to him.  


“Would you like to give chase, sir?” he asked with a crooked grin as he slung his bow around his shoulders, raising an eyebrow when the youth shook his head.  


“We’ll be seeing them soon enough, if we can take his words to be true,” he replied with a solemn nod, urging Titania back into a steady trot to resume their journey. Klein snorted when the boy didn’t even look back to see if he was following, gently digging his heels into the horses sides to get it moving again.  
It wasn’t long before they passed through the gate, Firenze’s eyes filling with wonder at the bustle of the place, amber eyes drawn to the elaborate fabrics and odd fruit brought from Alysian before being dragged to intricately engraved, or even enchanted, quivers from the forests of Illyan. A smile formed on the knights face at seeing the youths poorly contained intrigue before turning his attention to the crowd, quickly reaching out to the boy.  


“It’s too packed for us to ride, we’ll dismount over there and go the rest of the way on foot, it’s not far,” Klein shouted to Firenze over the noise, quickly guiding them over to the alcove he had pointed out earlier and dismounting first to assist the lad in his descent. The boy gave him a short nod of thanks before taking the mares reins and following along behind the other as he wove through the crammed streets, glancing briefly at merchant stalls as they went.  


A couple of turns later they stood at the doors of a great, stone, building with signs of a stable behind it. Firenze opened his mouth to ask Klein about the place, as it seemed almost deserted, when a robust man burst forth from the enormous doors, seeming to have been thrown by some force. Shouting voices followed him, the echoes chased by raucous laughter as the drunken man stumbled back in with his fist held up in victory. A confused expression covered the boys face at this uncouth display, turning slightly to shoot a questioning look at the knight beside him.  


“Are we really staying here?” he asked, fingers fiddling with the straps of Titania’s saddle before swiveling his head to look crossly at Klein when the older let out a sharp bark of laughter.  


“Of course we’re staying here, young sir, unless you wish to sleep outside in the cold?” his companion replied with a grin, chuckling when the lad let out a childish huff and gave his consent to continue, leading him to the stables where they tied up their horses. On their return to the front they were met by a couple of obvious drunkards crowding a young woman against the wall, only a few inches separating the leering men from the enraged girl. The pair took swift action, Klein pushing Firenze behind him before challenging the brutes with his sword, the slide of metal on metal alerting the men to their presence.  
“Be gone from here, or else!” he called angrily, keeping his sword pointed down, the muscles in his arm looking strained as though he were restraining himself from cut them down where they stood. At his threat the two turn to face him, Their eyes glazed from drink and clothes smeared with vomit among other refuse.  


“O’els wha’?” the taller of the two slurred, drawing himself up to his full height before swaying and leaning against his companion. Just as Klein opened his mouth to respond a shock of lemon light burst from behind them men, knocking them unconscious and revealing their attacker; standing in their wake stood the woman, fingers outstretched and the remnants of magic flickering between them.  


“Thanks and all for the help, but I really didn’t need it,” She said with a smirk, tossing tightly curled canary-yellow tresses over her ebony shoulder, “I just didn’t want to cause a scene, is all.” Firenze giggled softly at her casual cadence and the effect it had on his dumbfounded friend, seeing as Klein had deflated slightly at being unable to fulfill the “knight in shining armor” rescue he had attempted. When the knight gave no response, the lad stepped out from behind him and offered his hand to the girl.  


“Pleasure to meet you, I’m Firenze, my companion is Sir Klein, and you are?” He asked cordially, shaking her hand firmly when she placed it within his own.  


“I’m Amara, behind me is Deton, he likes to lurk.” She responded with a chuckle, a mischievous glint in her honey eyes as a large man dressed in a dark gray cloak stepped out from behind her, only the tip of his umber nose and short gray flecked beard visible.  


“It’s rude to alert people to me when I’m ‘lurking’ Amara,” Deton’s low voice rumbled as he stepped up to place a large, calloused, hand on her shoulder. The sound of his voice seemed to shock Klein out of his stupor, a flicker of recognition passing through his eyes, before he grabs at Firenze’s shoulder to pull him away.  


“We best be getting our room, young master.” he said hoarsely, all formalities that were forgotten at the beginning of their journey back in place as he dragged the boy off to get rooms. Firenze bade Deton and Amara a hasty good-bye before following along behind his companion without a struggled, concern etched on his usually soft features, not trying to stop the knight until they were behind closed doors.  


“What’s wrong, Friedrich?” the youth asked gently, using his guardians first name since his childhood, his fingers grasping gently at the front of Klein’s tunic as he looked up at him. A rattling gasp was all that he got in response, the elder’s head falling to rest on his shoulder as arms came up around his torso to hold him tightly, almost as though he were an anchor; the youth let out a surprised yet fond huff at this, wiggling his arms out from between his chest and Klein’s to rub at the knights back soothingly as he waits for the other to release him, their things forgotten on the floor.  


Several minutes passed before Klein let go of him, his eyes haunted and face pale, the sight of him causing Firenze to repeat his earlier question.  


“I’m fine, just saw someone I never expected to encounter again,” he answered simply, staggering off to the washroom before the youth could further interrogate him and not returning until he was in the bed a few feet from his own and fast asleep.  
Morning came too quickly for Firenze’s liking, the rattling knocks against their door awakening him. Groggily rubbing at his eyes, Firenze got up and slid on his boots without tieing them, the heels clicking against the thick pine wood of the floor as he went over to answer it, grabbing a dagger from the desk, the only furnishing besides the beds and a few candles in the room, on his way.  


Upon opening it he discovered no-one there, a small obsidian box held shut with twine the only thing waiting at their door. After stooping to pick it up he found it with a tag addressing it to Klein, the knight currently still sound asleep in his bed, taking it back in and setting it on the desk along with the dagger before looking over it with magic to check for any possible dangers it may pose, little tendrils of his aura slipping along the finely chiseled surface leisurely.  
It wasn’t long until Firenze deemed it safe, not finding any curses or traps lurking under the lid. As he stood up to begin readying himself for the day, his companion groaned himself awake, long fingers combing through blond hair as he sat up. Firenze spared him a quick, calculating, look, taking note of the dark bags under his eyes before broaching the subject as he undid the cuffs of his nightclothes.  


“Late night?” he asked carefully, glancing at him from the corner of his eyes before they widened at the defeated sigh the knight gave in response as he buried his face in his hands.  


“I appreciate your concern Firenze, but your curiosity is going to make me strangle you one day,” Klein groaned, tossing a fresh tunic at the boy as he muddled around, rubbing crossly at his forehead while his headache began to build, grumbling, “Curse the man that created drink. . .” This caused the youth to chuckle at his hung-over companion, rummaging through his bag for a moment before locating the necessary tonic to lessen his symptoms.  


“It’s going to be a merciless ride if you don’t take this,” Firenze laughed as he tossed the potion to his companion, breaking out in jovial laughter when he fumbled to catch it. The knight downed it with a grimace, coughing as he beat his chest from the burning aftertaste, before getting back to changing and readying himself for the day, hardly noticing as Firenze discreetly slipped a box in with his things.  


After doing a quick check to make sure they weren’t forgetting anything they left, Klein hustling them through the inn, using an excuse of not wanting to be late to hurry his young charge along and get them back onto the road in a short period of time. I wonder where Amara and Deton are, he thought as he heaved himself up onto Titania, glancing at Klein and thinking of his reaction to meeting them, Though I guess it’s for the best that we haven’t seen them since last night. A new question entered his mind. Why would he act like that? The thought caused him to pause as he moved out of the stable, worrying at the reins before Klein bumped shoulders with him and gave him a reassuring smile despite the obvious bags under his eyes.  


It wasn’t until they had made a few hours progress away from the city that Klein noticed his parcel, pulling it out along with a quick snack of bread and cheese, his brow furrowing as he held it up for inspection.  


“Do you know where this came from, Firenze?” he called back to the boy, who was currently day-dreaming, snapping him out of the trance by tossing an apple to the lads horse.  


“Huh?! Wha’?” the boy mumbled in surprise, blinking rapidly as he came back from whatever far-off place his mind had been in. Klein huffed softly in annoyance and pointed to the miniature chest.  


“This. What’s it doing in my luggage?” the knight asked pointedly, holding it out to give the youth a better look as he pranced up beside him.  


“Oh, that! Someone left it outside our door while you were asleep, don’t worry I already checked it for traps and curses and the like,” he explained with a grin, looking very proud of himself. Klein nodded slowly in understanding, turning the object around in his hands as he inspected the opal studded lock and intricately carved scenes on the lid, his blue eyes filling in pained delight when he recognized the house depicted on it. Thats the same look he got when he heard Deton’s voice, Firenze thought, mulling over it as he noticed how Klein never once actually opened the case.  


They completed the rest of their trek to Strataetus without incident, riding in companionable silence through tree-dotted plains that gave way to rocking mountainside, each lost in their own thoughts up until the reached the first of three gates. Klein gestured at Firenze to follow behind him as they guided their horses carefully through the stream of people filtering in and out of the city’s outskirts, the lads eyes filled with just as much wonder as they had been when they reached Partengon. Vibrant colors burst from every nook and cranny in the merchant district they crossed to pass through to the upper tiers, pausing briefly at the wrought-iron and grey granite gate before weaving through the upscale nobleman neighborhoods in order to reach the great stone-enforced wooden doors that barred the entrance to the Stronghold at Straetatus.  


A light mist covered the crest of Straetatus, the heavily armored castle so high up that clouds skimmed over the tops of the towers, though thanks to runes embedded in the very foundation the air was as full as that in a low valley. A small shiver ran through Firenze as they rode through the drizzle, a chill easily penetrating his thin tunic before he struggled on a thick wool cloak, huddling in it’s itchy warmth as Klein spoke to one of the guards.  


“I am Sir Klein of Pervical, here to present Firenze son of Duke Cashore for his training as apprentice to the Archmage Wyvern,” the knight announced, handing over a note, supposedly, from the youth’s father that the boy had manufactured during their travel. Apparently it passed off for the real thing since the soldier gestured them along, leading them by foot to a side entrance to avoid making the massive entryway doors open. When Klein asked him about this, he chuckled and informed them how it was more for show, only using it when dignitaries arrived for conferences and formal events.  
“It would take twenty strong men turning chains for almost an hour, or five exceptionally skilled mages a few minutes, I s’pose, to open those confounded doors,” he laughed, slapping his knee, “Ah well, here you go, just turn left here and then keep going straight and you’ll find your way back to the main road!” After thanking the man, they followed the path he had described, the horses hooves clopping loudly against the pale blue cobblestones as they went.  
A vague feeling of deja-vous fell over Firenze as he took in the voluminous gardens with their lush, fruit-bearing, trees and winding pathways. His distracted manner quickly caught Kleins attention, the knight pulling his horse back and falling into step beside him before clearing his throat to catch the boys attention.  


“Seems like it hasn’t changed at all, doesn’t it?” he mused, smiling secretively at the lad as he continues, “You might not remember it very well, but when you were eight we came to give Their Majesty our congratulation’s on his youngest son turning ten.” Firenze nodded slowly, the blurred images of a stoically cold boy taller than he was at the time surfacing in his mind, the sight of a intense gray eyes shaded by pale brown hair, just a flash from a window above them, setting off the rest of his recollection. That morning I had accidentally torn the dress on Lilyana’s doll, the cuts on my knees were from her knocking me onto the ground a hitting me with the brush for it while Father watched and encouraged her, not from me tripping like he told everyone, the youth thought with a wince, rubbing at his knees where the faint scars from that incident remained. His eyes widened as he processed what he had just seen, head whipping around to scan the windows facing them for just a glimpse of brown hair before turning away with a sigh when he saw that it had gone.  


“I remember him a bit, though there wasn’t really much to as far as I can tell. Didn’t Father say something about him becoming a recluse a couple of years ago?” he asked with a huff, brow raising when the knight bit out a laugh.  


“Some recluse he is, young master, from what I’ve heard he’s become quite the womanizer, though his bed partners aren’t always female,” a light blush formed on Firenze’s cheeks at this, earning him a chuckle from Klein as the elder continued, “And the rest of the rumors I’ve heard almost all say that he’s slept with all of the castle staff, including the guards, with the exception of the Archmage, his son, and the Viceroys, though that last ones debatable as the Viceroy of Foreign Affairs was recently replaced.” At finding out these assumptions were gathered from rumors a frown distorted the lad’s face, brow furrowing further from the insinuation.  


“You’re basing this all off of rumors? I thought you were better than that, Sir Klein, especially after that incident,” Firenze muttered accusingly, glaring at the knight as best as one can while confused, unused to his typically kind guardian making such wild assumptions. A loud sigh came from the elder as he rubbed a hand over his face, resting a hand on the boy’s shoulder as he apologized.  


“I apologize for being so judgemental, young master, and for adopting such speculations as my own opinions, though it is about time you learned that in every rumor there is a grain of truth,” he advised, patting the boys head before drawing away, noticing the perplexed expression his charge wore, “Think nothing of it, we’re almost to the castle.”  


Firenze huffed in finality, for once taking heed of the knights words and directing his attention back to their destination, only just in time to pause his steed as a small group of knights rode forth from the entrance to one of the many courtyards.  


“You are Firenze, son of Duke Cashore?” the man in front asked as he blocked them off, voice steely and clipped, leveling them with a bored stare before he moved aside to let them pass when the boy voiced a confirmation. “Leave your things here when you dismount, we will make sure they find their way to your rooms in time for you to get ready for tonight’s feast.”  


The pair quickly dismounted, Firenze smuggling the satchel containing his tortoise under his cloak before they set off into the castle under the guidance of a page. As they walked, Firenze and Klein fell into their usual formal pattern, Firenze making pleasant conversation with the girl leading them while Klein stayed behind them as a watchful shadow.  


The inside of the castle was warm and welcoming, the wooden floors covered in luxuriously thick rugs while the stone walls were decorated with intricate tapestries and paintings broken up by the occasional stained-glass window depiction of castle life or heavy wood door. It was hard for the youth to contain himself, the various textures seeming to beckon to his touch, each door framing another question and another mystery in his mind. They walked through several main corridors before the passage seemed to grow smaller, like a vein winding out from an artery, eventually leading them to their set of rooms.  


Despite being guest-quarters, the spacious apartment styled suit was cozy, with each bedroom containing it’s own washroom and a comfortable sitting-room study between the. It even drew an appreciative whistle from Klein, who rarely commented on the places he slept, each room had it’s own color palette, going from creamy yellows in the far left bedroom, to deep burgundies with sensual pinks in the combined sitting room study, and ending with soft greens complemented by vibrant blues in the second bedroom. Firenze took a moment to explore and enjoy the accommodations, humming happily at the texture of the bedspread beneath his fingers as he looked about the second bedroom, after setting up a small enclosure for Titanus, he sat down to fully feel the softness of the mattress before lying back to get a better look at the design on the canopy.  


A sudden drowsiness weighed down his eyelids as he sank into the bed, the boy briefly thinking, A short nap wouldn’t hurt, as he dozed off.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow so really I would just like some hella feedback but it's also aight if you're reading this bc it looked interesting (hopefully it is) and not super cliched


End file.
